


True To Our Nature

by vforvillanelle



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, I'm a sucker for romantic car rides, and yes it really does come with the rear seat entertainment system, for anyone wondering what vehicle they’re in: it’s a 2019 Range Rover Evoque, it also looks slightly predatory with sharp sleek lines...which is exquisitely fitting, ridiculously comfortable, ridiculously functional
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-03-06 03:00:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18842266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vforvillanelle/pseuds/vforvillanelle
Summary: After having just left the comfort of her house for the luxurious interior of the SUV supplied by MI6, Eve was acutely aware of how her body felt right at home when she was beside Villanelle.





	True To Our Nature

After having just left the comfort of her house for the luxurious interior of the SUV supplied by MI6, Eve was acutely aware of how her body felt right at home when she was beside Villanelle.

Much faster than Eve had imagined, her blood stirred, aroused again by their proximity. At the same time, Villanelle’s physical presence had a sedative effect on Eve, as if the thoughts crashing around in her mind could gently be reduced to a more manageable phenomenon because they were finally being understood by the right person.

Eve’s love for Villanelle felt so total and so annihilating that for a moment, between London’s street lights and the sudden stretch of countryside, it became impossible for Eve to see Villanelle clearly at all.

Not even her imposing silhouette could smear itself over the thick shadows. There was just black on black. An obsidian, opaque power that Eve _felt_ yet could not fully trust right now. In this moment, Eve needed to latch onto some proof that Villanelle was actually still here. Still real. Eve heard her own voice waver like a bad choral performance when she asked:

“What’s it like not having a conscience?”

Villanelle’s dress rustled. Then came her soft reply.

“It is being the truest to yourself that you will ever be.”

In the feral darkness, Eve could feel Villanelle’s burning gaze.

“What is it like to have a conscience?” wondered Villanelle.

The SUV swerved. Eve could hear the crunch of tires on gravel, feel the sharp momentum of the vehicle as it rumbled through a curve. Then after a few moments, the driver engaged the brakes to maneuver them safely down a steep stretch of road. Eve caught flashes of stone cliffs in the pale pool of light emanating around the vehicle’s exterior.

“I guess it’s a lot like this ride,” Eve answered as they continued to speed to their destination. Her tone was more calm and considered now.  “A conscience puts the brakes on to keep you from going off the proper path.”

“That sounds boring.”  
  
“It’s necessary!” Eve snapped and shrugged off her coat with a huff. She turned her body to face Villanelle. The seatbelt cut into her shoulder but she needed to get her point across, damn it. “I would be lost without my conscience. It gives me direction, helps me make good decisions. Y’know, _important_ decisions.”  
  
“Like putting a hit on yourself just so I could come back to you?”  
  
“Yeah. Like that.”  

The darkness made it impossible for Eve to tell whether she’d successfully conveyed anything at all to Villanelle. As if prompted by her thoughts, the refined interior suddenly lit up at the door handles and at their feet with a subdued amber glow. Eve glanced at the driver.  
  
“Is this alright ma’am?” He cocked his head to the side. “I figured you’d want some light considering that it’s so dark an’ all.”  
  
“It’s fine.”

Eve sighed as she took in the cocobolo trim lining the vehicle, the screens on the back of the headrests in front of them, the intoxicating smell of quilted leather, and how the seats molded to comfort her body. This was way too decadent, nothing at all like the shitty but reliable car she shared with Niko to run errands with; being here was entirely too good to be true but _oh_ it felt so good for every second that it lasted.

“So,” Villanelle urged, “are you going to tell me what exactly you need my help with?”  
  
Eve held up a hand. She tapped the driver on the shoulder.  
  
“Uh, Vil-the asset and I need to discuss some top secret information. Could you maybe put headphones on or something?”

The driver complied and gave her a thumbs up when he’d stuffed in some ridiculously cushioned earbuds.

Thanks to the faint light, Eve could tell that Villanelle wore her most offended look. “Asset? Is that all I am to you?”

Eve thought that Villanelle placed much more emphasis on the _ass_ part of “asset” than was really necessary.

“MI6 needs you to get information from The Ghost.”

“Oh, she won’t talk to you?”

“No.”

“I don’t blame her. You’re not a very good conversationalist.”

“You’d better hope The Ghost talks to you.”

“Or what, Eve?”

_Or this mission will fail. We won’t be able to work together. Carolyn will fire me again. And then I’d lose you._

“I’ll start to really question your reputation. I’d hate for you to be disappointing, after all.”

Villanelle turned away. “I am not good enough for you, Eve?”

_You are. You are so fucking perfect. You’re the best of me._

“Or maybe,” Villanelle continued with a lethal edge to her tone, “you think you are too good for me?”

“I just want this mission to succeed. It has to. Don’t you want that too?”

“It will succeed. I know what I am capable of.”

“Right.” said Eve tersely.

“Do you know what you are capable of?”

Eve fell silent. She opened her window. The night air was cold. It stung her eyes.

The ambient interior lighting melted from amber to violet. Eve recalled the rush she felt as she drew closer to that older man who had cut her off in line on the metro platform. Had it really happened just yesterday? It already seemed like a lifetime ago, but the sensations remained vivid: the staleness of the metro, the gathering current of electricity lingering in the warm air, the screeching of the approaching train, the pounding in Eve’s head as she stretched her arms out, the breath hitching in her throat as her fingertips made contact with his jacket, the blood heating in her veins to circulate euphoria throughout her body, the feeling of power joined with an exhilarating sense of righteous purpose...

It was too bad that Villanelle had dropped her phone into a teacup full of champagne, Eve thought. She could have used the distraction now. Some mindless scrolling through her social media feeds, perhaps online banking, even any texts from Niko would have been enough. The blue light from the dashboard console drew Eve’s gaze. She peered over the driver’s shoulder. The display was showing a detailed map, terrain included, along with the distance left until they reached the Forest of Dean. They were reduced to an arrow inching along a screen.

Eve caught Villanelle from the corner of her eye. She seemed supremely unperturbed, as if her heart and soul weren’t in a state of delay. Eve wondered how Villanelle could disengage from her inner turmoil so easily. Eve had learned to play a game expertly over time, the game of endless deflections and counters and ripostes and counter-counters and double entendres and wicked puns, a chaotic mechanical spiral of conversation whose meaning was always secondary to the way it was said. Unexpectedly, Eve had learned to need this game too.

With Villanelle, she didn’t want to play this game. It was different between them. The edges of words could be as deadly as serrated knives, but their intent and meaning was like a healing caress against their wounds. It was the world outside their heads and beyond their immediate proximity that constantly interfered with its demands and developments and endless rules.

If she could earnestly voice her honest desires, Eve would tell the driver to take them far away from the path set before them. Fuck The Ghost. Fuck MI6. Fuck The Twelve. Fuck _all_ of it, her groceries and her townhouse in London; Niko and his bridge club; Carolyn and her tangled web; the haunted past and it’s long, brooding reach that loomed over their present like a storm cloud. If Eve had her way, she’d grab Villanelle and fall off the face of the planet if it meant they could both live out the rest of their lives in peace.

After they’d finished pulling over at a gas station for a washroom and snack break, Eve let her head fall back against the seat. She closed her eyes. The SUV glided along the road, its silent and swift motion occasionally punctured by the crunches of cracked asphalt, rocks, and splashes of muddy country road.

Eve didn’t know how long she’d been dozing, but eventually she felt Villanelle’s fingers entwine in her hair. Eve forced herself to keep her breathing even, terrified that Villanelle would pull away if she detected the slightest change of rhythm in the rise and fall of her chest. Miraculously, Villanelle’s fingers continued to lightly wrap around her curls, slip between strands tucked behind her ear and finally come to rest against the side of her neck.

Villanelle’s touch was warm. Firm, yet not pressing. After a moment of hesitation, her fingers slid upwards to caress Eve’s cheek. Villanelle’s thumb continued to gently stroke Eve’s rapidly flushing skin as if she was trying to make a permanent impression there or perhaps convey at least a fragile fraction of what was reverberating between them.

Eve finally opened her eyes and looked at Villanelle through a curtain of curls. Villanelle brushed them aside. She fully cupped the side of Eve’s face now, an echo of their kitchen conversation.

Villanelle’s voice was barely above a whisper as she asked:

“Would you be sad if I died?”

“I don’t like having conversations where you ask me to imagine your death.”

“Why not?”

“How would you like it if _I_ died?”

“I just want to know you love me.”

Eve reached out instantly and intertwined her fingers between Villanelle’s. Not a word passed between them. The contact was enough, it was _perfect,_ Eve could live from this touch alone. As long as she could feel Villanelle here beside her, as long as they could reach for each other and be met with unflinching acceptance and this beautiful, captivating  warmth, Eve would set the world on fire and gladly watch its burning reflected in Villanelle’s eyes.

“Open the roof cover,” Villanelle prompted the driver, “I want to see the stars.”

She looked up. Eve nearly gasped at the wonder that washed onto her face as she saw stars in the wild. Undiluted by city lights, they twinkled like perfect gems strewn across a black velvet blanket. Constellations met each other and started conversations in the form of criss-crossing trails that nearly dipped beyond the horizon.

When Villanelle met Eve’s gaze, Eve simply smiled.

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s just...you look so... human. That’s all.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Villanelle didn’t let go of Eve’s hand. A few hours from now, dawn would bleed across the sky and scatter the stars, drowning them in passionate red and orange hues. But for right now, Eve had Villanelle, and they were holding hands, and nothing in the world could possibly mean more. Until Villanelle asked the question that made Eve’s heart soar to new heights, as if Villanelle had savagely ripped it out only to hand it back to Eve gently:

“Do you want to watch a movie?”


End file.
